


At My Core

by TinyMog



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: A lot of Aegaeon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, He's a good boi, If you want smut look elsewhere, Internal Conflict, Self-Hatred, Trans Female Character, Very minor Brighid/Mórag, trans!morag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 21:39:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19776952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyMog/pseuds/TinyMog
Summary: A small exploration into Mòrag's childhood. If she was trans that is.I mean... there's nothing saying she isn't.





	At My Core

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first time writing a trans character of any kind. So please don't hate me if I got something wrong, but feel free to leave critiques (or compliments) in the comments. Also a small warning to anyone who may be upset by background characters being transphobic.
> 
> Also I think I kind of messed up how awakening Blades works, but this way worked better for my story so just ignore it.
> 
> Anyway, enough of that, please enjoy!

The halls of Alba Cavanich echo with the rapid pounding of little feet.  
"...48...49...50..."  
The child giggles as they dash around the corner to seek refuge behind one the long red velvet curtains that adorns the palace walls.  
"...59...60, prepare yourself my liege for I will be upon you soon!" A deep, familiar voice calls out from one of the rooms further down the hall. Another giggle escapes the child as they press themselves closer to the stone wall, careful to make sure no shoes are poking out this time. They cover their mouth to keep any more laughs from escaping and giving them away. Footsteps. Slow and steady... Coming closer.  
"I know you came this way my liege," the voice says, before whipping back the curtain, "Gotcha!"  
A little squeal escapes them and then surprise is replaced with anger. "You cheated, Aegaeon! You must have!" They fold their arms and pout, as the Blade in question crouches down to their level.  
"I promise on my honor, I haven't peeked." He folds one arm over his chest to emphasize his point. His kind, almost mechanical face hovers in front of them. "But you must learn to keep your footsteps silent when you run, Mòrag. You're noisier than a rampaging Rhinon."  
"Hey!"  
"I merely tease your Highness," he chuckles, "The hiding place itself was quite clever."  
Mòrag's smile returns, "Thanks! I just discovered it."  
"Surely you will make an excellent Emperor someday."  
Mòrag squirms at this. "Do I have to be Emperor?" They say quietly.  
"What would you rather be?"  
"A warrior! The best warrior in all of Mor Ardain, like you!"  
Aegaeon reaches out to brush the long raven hair out of the little one's eyes. Despite their aunt's protests the child insisted on growing it out. At age six it almost reached the center of their back. He smiles as warmly as his cold exterior will allow him to, "I'm sure you will be."  
"Well, not just like you... You're a Blade and I'm not. And you're a boy and I'm..." Mòrag trails off, and looks away.  
Aegaeon tilts his head, curious as to what they were going to say. "You're... what, my liege?"  
They shake their head, "I'm- I'm..." A pause. "Not sure."  
Aegaeon waits, patiently, to see if they'll say anything more, but it doesn't seem likely.  
It wasn't the first time they had alluded to something like this. Being sensitive to the needs of the Mor Ardainian royal family was deeply ingrained in his being. Whether it was noticing an injury his driver had tried to conceal from him or the way his young charge cringed at being called 'a lovely young lad' he was very aware and had made an effort to only address the child by their name or such terms as 'my liege', or 'highness.' It seemed to make a considerable difference in the young lord's mood.  
"That is alright, Mòrag. I'm sure that whatever you decide to be you will be a great one."  
They laugh and reach around his neck for a hug, carefully avoiding the tubes of freezing cold liquid that run over his body. He scoops them up. The weight of their body felt light in his strong metallic arms but the weight the child carried in their own heart weighed heavily in his core. 

For four years they played this game. Hide and seek. For Mòrag was both hiding from and seeking herself at the same time. She struggled both with the way she fit into her body and into her family. Being raised by your aunt and uncle with barely a memory of your real parents was bound to take a toll. As a blade Aegaeon certainly knew what it was like to try to hold on to memories that were never in your hands to begin with.  
He was a constant companion and confidant to the preteen. Offering reassurance when she questioned if what she felt was even real. "If you are feeling it, then surely it must be," he'd told her.   
Her pleas to be grouped with the other girls during lessons were silenced, her curiosity with the dresses in the market shunned, and her desire to be referred to as a girl was completely ignored. The things she asked for and way she felt didn't line up with the idea of a 'suitable' male successor and was promptly pushed aside.  
He tried his best but knew that sometimes the kind, understanding words of one person can be drowned out by the lies of the oblivious and ignorant masses. And that one Blade couldn't stop the thousands that pierced her heart everyday.  
Things got a bit better when Niall was born, in some sick twisted way. Mòrag, as the oldest son, (as far as her aunt and uncle were concerned, but Aeageon knew in his core that that's not who she was) she was next in line for the throne. She had never shown interest in wanting it, but she was used to not getting what she wanted.  
The birth of her cousin brought about a new kind of cruelty. The Emperor and his wife became slightly more accepting. Not as quick to berrate the young girl's feelings and more inclusive of her wishes. Mòrag, still young, was oblivious as to why exactly this change had happened and was simply glad that it had. Aegaeon on the other hand, was keenly aware. Of course they would allow Morag to live out her 'fantasy' as a woman if it meant their son would rule. They were content with the palace and the entirety of Mor Ardain thinking she was unwell and confused if it somehow removed her from her claim to the throne.  
It made his ether boil and he wondered if in any of his past lives he had hated a Driver more. It was unlike him, he knew. It went against the core of his very being. His entire purpose was to serve the Emperor and his Driver but it was also to serve Mor Ardain and it's future. And Aegaeon believed in the very makeup of his being that Mòrag, and now the infant Lord Niall, were far better candidates for building a bright future. 

Mòrag, now fifteen, sighs as she buttons up her dress uniform. The fabric feels stiff and scratchy against her skin. Today is supposed to be the most important day of her life. The day she awakens her Blade. She will gain a greater place of power in the royal court and a partner for life. At least that's the plan... Of course there's no guarantee that the Jewel of Mor Ardain will even awake for her.  
Over the course of Mòrag's entire life, every year since she was a child in fact, she had seen royals, politicians, and generals fail to resonate with the core that sat guarded in the basement of Alba Cavanich. Even her uncle had been unable to, despite the fact that many times in the past the Emperor had resonated with both Jewels of the Empire.  
She used to sneak down there sometimes, just to catch a glimpse of the core crystal. Cold and still on its stand, but filled with life and history within. She had imagined what it'd be like when she was old enough to take her turn. She used to feel such excitement, such hope.  
But now as she looks in the mirror all she feels is... nausea. If the Jewel of Mor Ardain, recorded history says her name is Brighid, chose to reject all of those perfectly... well, perfect, candidates, gravely wounding every one of them, what would become of someone like her?  
She was... Well, she knew who she was inside. Thought she knew anyway... Sometimes it was confusing when what she saw in the mirror didn't exactly line up with how she saw herself. Like now, the uniform made her shoulders wider than she'd like and her hips were almost nonexistent. Thank the Architech she was born with a slight frame. Her aunt and uncle had at least begun to allow her to take medicinal substances that would suppress her more masculine traits before she hit puberty, but she was still unable to wear things that were feminine in nature or be formally addressed as lady.  
There were a few of the more understanding servants, and Aegaeon of course, who respected her wishes and made every effort to refer to her as she wished behind closed doors. But even Aegaeon could not defy the Emperor by calling her lady in a public setting. She had a small grasp of the finer details of politics but even she knew this would cause an uproar and likely severe punishment for the offending Blade. Something she would never wish on him.  
She had, however, almost worked up the courage to wear a bit of makeup for the occasion but figured there'd be enough eyes on her already. Of course there was also the more cynical side of her that said her mascara would run anyway when the core crystal inevitably rejects her and she ends up crying in a bloody heap on the floor.  
She takes a shaky breath at the thought of so much pain and busies her equally shaky hands by adjusting her hair. It hangs past her shoulders in a low pony tail, contrasting starkly against the white fabric.  
A tiny knock at the door startles her fidgeting. "Y-yes?"  
"It's Niall, can I come in?" An even tinier voice answers.  
"Yes, of course," she says regaining some semblance of composure.  
The door creaks open slightly revealing a small face nearly obscured by navy hair. Upon seeing her in the uniform he smiles widely and runs full force at her, nearly slamming into her legs. "Wow! Those buttons are reeeally shiny!" He says leaning in to see his reflection in a button down by her waist.  
She can't help but smile. Even laugh a little. No matter how Niall may see her in his young, pure eyes, she knows he loves her. And that means everything to her. "Careful, or you'll get noseprints on them."  
He steps back a bit and smiles up at her widely. "Mama and Daddy said to come get you! Its almost time for you to be a real Driver!"  
"Alright," she takes one last look in the mirror. "I suppose I'm ready."  
He takes her hand and together they make their way to the hall where the Resonance Ceremony is always held. "Are you scared?" Niall asks.  
For a moment she considers lying, but when her head is buzzing with nerves the truth seems far easier. "Yes, Niall. I am... Very scared."  
"Aegaeon says that a true warrior is brave, not fearless."  
She smiles. "Aegaeon has a lot of good sayings doesn't he?"  
"He sure does. He's really smart. And strong too. What do you think your Blade will be like? Have you ever seen a picture of it?"  
"Her." She replies without thinking. Force of habit she supposed. "Brighid is a girl Blade. And she's not mine." Not yet, she thinks. "But I've heard she is very beautiful."  
"As beautiful as you? Because I can't imagine anyone prettier than that."  
Her throat tightens, at least this time it's not from nerves. But before she can find her voice the doors to the hall are looming in front of them rather forebodingly. Destiny awaits... 

What follows immediately after is a blur. She has some vague knowledge of Niall leaving her side, and of making her way toward the back of the line next to the other eager candidates (there were considerably less than previous years she noticed), but she clearly remembers the pedestal in the center of the room.  
Gloved servants carefully approach it carrying a small gold chest, they place it on the top and open the lid. The core crystal, the Jewel of Mor Ardain, sits serenely among the purple velvet. A maid begins to shine it, making sure she doesn't touch it for too long in fear of resonating through her gloves. She noticed physicians are standing nearby, ready and waiting for the first victim of core crystal rejection. Her pulse begins to surge with anxiety.  
She looks around the room for anything to take her mind off of what's to come and her eyes settle on Aegaeon. His blue and white color scheme a sharp contrast to the golds and reds of the rectangular room. Like an oasis of calm in this desert of fear. He stands at attention at the Emperor's right hand, dutifully scanning the room for threats or anything that requires his attenion. His eyes meet hers and for a moment the noise of the room quiets. He barely moves, just gives a single, simple nod. She feels her heart start to slow slightly and nods back, hoping he knows everything she's trying to say in the small gesture. She feels he does.  
Emperor Ardanach and his wife take their place at the front of the room Aegaeon and Niall close behind. In years prior that's were she stood as well. And if she and everyone failed again this year, she would find herself there once more.  
Her uncle-father began his speech. The usual spiel about this being a great honor, an extreme privilege, and a heavy burden. He's right of course. It is. For if any of them succeed their lives are made forfeit to the Empire by way of servitude. Not that that is new to many of them. Not to mention all of the usual responsibilities that come with being a Driver.  
The first candidate is called, some lord she couldn't remember having ever met before. His attempt ends in failure and screams. She swallows hard as she watches the physicians drag his limp body out the room. The next attempt goes similarly. As does the next. And the next until- "Mòrag Ladair of Alba Cavanich."  
Her heart beats double time as she makes her way to the pedestal. As the screams of the last unfortunate candidate being taken to the infirmary fade her eyes dart down to the carpet beneath her feet. Red. To mask the blood of those who came before her, she thinks. Her stomach lurches. It's not doing a good job.  
She lifts her head and meets the cold gaze of her uncle. His grey eyes seem to be scrutinizing her mercilessly. "Are you prepared?" He asks, addressing her and at the same time announcing to the crowd of onlookers that her turn was about to begin.  
She does her best to respond with confidence, "Yes, your Majesty. I am."  
He seems unconvinced. "Very well. You may begin."  
Mòrag nods and after a difficult swallow reaches out to lift the core crystal from it's place. She tries not to think of the sound of her hammering heart or the hushed whispers of the people, she ignores the sight of the royal family and their unimpressed gazes (save Niall, who looks as if he'll burst with excitement) and instead focuses of the crystal in her hands.  
The stone still felt cool despite being recently handled and almost pulsed in her hands. She wasn't sure why but she'd expected it to burn her. Pushing aside all thoughts of the pain that will surely follow she takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes, and pulls it to her chest.  
She feels her heartbeat slow, as if to match the beat emanating from the core. For a few seconds they pound together. The rhythm steadily building in strength. She hears several gasps from around the room and at the same time notices a warming sensation spreading from her chest throughout her entire body. She risks opening an eye and is nearly blinded by the bursts of blue light exploding mere inches from her face. But just as quickly as they appeared they were gone, leaving in the fading light a Blade. Her Blade... Brighid.  
She was beautiful. Just like the historians said, but they never could have accurately described just how beautiful. Her long purple hair waved gently of it's own volition ending in brilliant blue flames. Her stunning figure was accentuated by the matching purple gown she wore and her crystalline hands were crossed over chest holding two thin swords.  
She didn't see her uncle, clutching at his chest and cursing in a rage mere feet away, or Niall gleefully celebrating her success. She didn't even notice Aegaeon's proud gaze. In this moment all she saw was Bridghid and all she could do was stare.  
"I am Brighid. Jewel of Mor Ardain," she introduced herself as all Blades did upon being reawoken, "And you, my Driver," she continued, "You are?"  
"I'm... Mòrag." Was all she could manage.  
"It is a pleasure to meet and to serve you," she extended the swords toward her and Mòrag hesitantly took them. They were light, but the responsibility that came with them was monumental, "I am yours to command." Brighid bowed deeply. "Lady Mòrag."  
This was it. Her chance to finally decide how people saw her. She could correct her or maybe this was her chance. "And you, Lady Brighid." She said returning the bow.  
The room erupted in questions and whispers and Mòrag's knees nearly gave out under the weight of what she'd just done. She glanced around the host of disapproving and confused eyes and felt Aegaeon take her arm and pull both her and Brighid out of the hall via a side door. He led them to a guest bedroom meant for diplomatic visitors. Mòrag hastily sat on the bed in an attempt to keep the room from spinning.  
"Please, Mòrag, Lady Brighid," he said calmly, "Wait here until someone comes for you."  
"I do not understand." Brighid began, "Have I done something wrong?" Mòrag gripped the swords she still held even tighter. It was out there. Everyone of influence came for the ceremony today... And now everyone knew...  
Aegaeon didn't answer her. "I will be back soon, Mòrag. For now, take care of eachother." Then he was gone. Before either girl could reply or ask further questions.  
Brighid continued to pace aimlessly, her heels clicking on the tile and the grandfather clock ticking in the corner of the room were the only sounds to be heard.  
  


After they'd been waiting for a while and Mòrag's anxiety had somewhat subsided she began to explain to Brighid exactly what happened. And exactly what their exchange meant.  
"Oh. I see," she said from her new position at Mòrag's side. "Please accept my humblest apologies. I, of course, never meant you any harm."  
"I know. It's alright. It's time I stop hiding from who I am. I'm not sure I was ready, I just- didn't want the first thing I said to you to be a lie." Mòrag couldn't meet her eyes, even though they appeared to be closed.  
Brighid gently sets a hand on Mòrag's shoulder, "I cannot even begin to understand how it feels," she begins, "I am merely a Blade, a newly awakened one at that, but you should know Mòrag, that when we resonated and you awoke my core, I felt yours as well." Mòrag turned towards her slowly, hanging on to every word, "And when I did do you know what I saw?" Mòrag shook her head and blinked back the tears that were starting to pool in her eyes. Brighid smiled kindly, "I saw that at your core you are a brave, dedicated, and determined young woman."  
Mòrag's tears now flowed freely down her face and then onto the front of Brighid's dress. Mòrag fell into her waiting arms, swords clattering to the floor. That assurance was all she needed. The confirmation that she wasn't crazy... It was like a great weight had been lifted. She had known Brighid for a half an hour and she had already done more for her than anyone she'd ever known.  
They stayed like that for quite some time, silently embracing, until the door opened, interrupting the moment of peace. The two woman separated and saw a young servant girl enter.  
"Umm, Lo- Lady, um, Lady Mòrag?"  
Mòrag smiled at the young girl's clumsy attempt at addressing her correctly, "Yes?"  
"I'm here to escort you to the infirmary."  
"I assure you, I'm fine," she said stopping to pick up her weapons.  
"I know, my liege but... It's the Emperor y'see. It's his heart..." Brighid stood at her side, placing her hand on her shoulder yet again. She found the warmth gave her courage.  
"Take me to him."  
  
The parting words her uncle gave her were not worth writing down. He gave his blessing for her to be viewed in the way she wished, though his reasons for doing so were less than pure. Of course at the end of his life, the matter of succession was at the forefront of his mind. And of course he did not wish it to be her.  
Mòrag knew it was one or the other. She was bound by the laws of her land, she could not be a woman and rule. But she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could not rule as anything less than what she was. A woman. So she accepted his blessing. And it was ironic that the man who had raised her to hate who she was made his last decree as emperor that she be formally titled female. And thus Niall was to be emperor of Mor Ardain.  
She was fine with this. She would watch over him and ensure that he was safe for the entirety of his rule. He was no longer just a little brother, but a duty. One she took very seriously.  
Niall, of course was heartbroken at his father's passing and Mòrag did everything in her power to console him. Though the Emperor was unkind to her, she would not allow his cruel legacy to live on by tainting her young brother's memory of him. She lied and told Niall she missed him as well, and in a way she did, but the Lady Mòrag did not mourn for the man who had raised her. As he died sometime after midnight not a single tear was shed. Only a sigh of relief escaped her. No, she didn't mourn the death of the Emperor with the rest of the empire, she instead found herself in tears and in Brighid's arm for a second time as she helplessly clutched Aegaeon's colorless core crystal to her chest.  
  


The following years were difficult. Less so with Brighid at her side but still very difficult. They lived, learned, and grew together, training and fighting relentlessly everyday. Their desire to protect both Niall and Mor Ardain fueling their collective fire. Together they quickly became the best Driver and Blade team in the palace, perhaps even all of Not Ardain, smart, fast, in tune with eachother and able to best anyone who was foolish enough to fight them. Mòrag had even heard they'd begun to call her Flamebringer. At first she thought it a bit silly, but Brighid appeared flattered by it, so she didn't complain.  
She missed Aegaeon dearly and his wise words. But throughout the course of her transition into her true self Brighid was at her side, giving assurance and encouragement whenever it was required. Just as he had so many years ago.  
And it made Brighid's ether glow bright to see Mòrag smile more often when she caught a glimpse of herself in a reflection somewhere. Brighid soon found that very few pages of her journal did not contain her Driver's name. From reading her older entries she understood that this was normal. A Blade and their Driver is the deepest connection that exists afterall. And with Brighid never leaving her side Mòrag worked her way up from a soldier, to a palace guard, to the emperor's personal bodyguard, and now, at age twenty-one, she was going to be promoted to Special Inquistor, voice of the Emperor. It wasn't easy getting to where she was now, she'd had the added difficulty of being a woman in the military. And a rather unconventional woman at that. In more ways than one. But now she found she didn't mind dressing like a man, and commanding respect like a man, when she knew that beneath her uniform and in her heart she was a woman.  
In the beginning she often had to remind her fellow soldiers and her subordinates of this fact, whether it be with her words or her whipswords, but she didn't mind. That much. And when her brother, the Emperor, formally presented her with the Special Inquisitor's uniform, authority, hat and all, she couldn't help but feel proud knowing that the kingdom, no, the entirety of Alrest would know her and remember her as Lady Mòrag.  
  


"I will be fine I assure you," Niall said for what had to have been the fifth time that day. "This trip to Gormott will be an excellent way for you to get acquainted with your new duties. Consul Dughall has been left unsupervised for too long."  
He was only ten, eleven in a few weeks, but he spoke with the elegance and sophistication of a man far older. Her aunt had surely outdone herself in preparing him for his role. Though she wondered at times if the hours and hours of harsh schooling had done more harm than good.  
He smiled far less than when they were young and on the rare occasion he did it was always the same. Small and serene but incredibly forced. Like he'd done it over and over in the mirror. He probably had she thought morbidly.  
Mòrag often had to remind herself that this was the same little boy who she'd read stories to as a toddler and had gone swimming with when the royal family took a rare vacation to somewhere that actually had bodies of water. Yes, he'd certainly grown a lot in five years. For better or worse she could not yet say.  
"I simply have reservations about leaving you unprotected for such a long time," she explained.  
He chuckles, "It's not like you are taking the entire army with you. I will be safe with the palace guards."  
She frowned, "Yes, but there are very few competent soldiers among them. Even fewer that I would trust with your life. In times past the Emperor was guarded by Aegaeon but-" Mòrag couldn't bring herself to continue. She still missed him dearly. And though Brighid helped fill the Blade-shaped hole in her heart he couldn't be replaced. The worst part was she wasn't even sure she wanted him to wake up. After all he wouldn't be the same. He would always be the same wise and loyal Aegaeon that much was sure, but the memories of caring for her as a child and protecting her as a preteen... would be gone.  
And though his core crystal sparked back to life a few weeks after the Emperor's death it had remained untouched all these years at Mòrag's request. And Niall was happy to oblige as he was not yet old enough to try himself.  
Now that Mòrag was leaving her brother's side for, probably the first time since his birth, she was beginning to reconsider. He was still rather young for resonating with a Blade but... something deep within her knew he'd be successful.  
"Perhaps it is time that the jewels of Mor Ardain be reunited."  
Niall's face lights up with surprise, "Do you really think so, sister? You embark for Gormott early tomorrow there is no time to arrange a ceremony..."  
Mòrag shakes her head. "A ceremony will not be necessary. I will have someone fetch the crystal and you can resonate right here."  
"Me?! I was under the impression that you would be the one to bond with him!"  
"If he is to watch over you, he should be your Blade."  
"I'm not yet fifteen. And there's never a guarantee..."  
"Very true." Mòrag continued calmly, "But I believe in you."  
Niall said nothing for several moments. "Alright, then... Let us proceed."  
Mòrag nodded and signalled a servant to fetch the core crystal. And a doctor. Just in case. 

It was as hard as she thought it would be. Seeing him again. His eyes were familiar and safe, but they appeared... colder somehow. As if the flames of recognition and memory had simply gone out. She supposed they had in a way.  
  


"Are you ready Lady Mòrag?" Brighid asked, ever at her side.  
She nodded. "Yes, I'll meet you on the ship, Brighid. I have one more thing I must attend to." She needed to say her goodbyes. Even though they would be in constant contact, it was no longer as brother and sister, but Emperor and Special Inquisitor. And it was unclear how long they'd be gone. Who knew how much of a mess Consul Dughall had made in her absence? It would certainly take a lot of time and effort to get things back in working order.  
Brighid bowed, taking her leave, and continued across the gangplank that sat behind them, connecting the pier and the ship they would take to Gormott.  
Niall and Aegaeon stood beside eachother on the dock, in front of the elevator to the throne room.  
"I will surely miss you, sister. Be safe."  
Mòrag bowed deeply, "And I you."  
As if he'd lost control of himself Niall rushed forward to wrap her in a crushing hug. For a moment it stunned her, they hadn't hugged well, since the day she resonated with Brighid. Of course that wasn't the only significant thing that happened that day, but it was the only one she cared to remember. She shook her head free of the memories and put her arms around his small shoulders. Too small for the weight and responsibility that had been placed on them.  
Eventually he pulled away, looking rather embarrassed. "I'm sorry, it's just- I'm really going to miss you."  
"It's alright, Niall. I will miss you as well."  
He smiled, warmly, for what seemed like the first time in ages. "Goodbye, sister."  
"I will take excellent care of the young Lord in your absence, Lady Mòrag," Aegaeon suddenly spoke up. She'd almost forgotten he was there.  
"I don't doubt it," she smiled looking between the two of them, "While, I may not know this... new you, I know who you are at your core," she clears her throat, the intensity of Aegaeon's emotionless stare boring into her, "It's the core of a Blade who was able to see through to the core of a little girl. A little girl that desperately needed someone to believe in her. And I- never got a chance to thank you for that."  
She noticed Niall's curious expression, but he remained silent as did Aegaeon.  
"Well, I suppose I must be off. Please just- take care of Niall. The way you took care of me."  
"Of course," he said placing a closed first over his core crystal, "You have my word."  
The ship's horn blew, signalling it was time to go. Mòrag hurriedly made her way to where Brighid stood waiting for her, leaning on the deck's railing.  
"I hope they will be okay," Brighid said quietly as the ship began to pull away, a hand raised up against her mouth in worry.  
Mòrag watched as Niall's shrinking form waved goodbye and Aegaeon gave her one single nod. She smiled taking Brighid's hand in her own, "Yes, I think they will be."  
  


And as the Lady Mòrag and Brighid pulled away from the dock they didn't realize that they were being pulled into a far greater destiny. For it was in Gormott that they would meet the rest of their family. The salvager boy who would grow into a hero and inspire Mòrag to fight for more than just her home. The Gormotti girl who would save Niall's life, nearly at the cost of her own. The Tantalese Prince, who was insufferable but a worthy opponent and comrade and arms. Even the Nopon inventor who mistook her for a man, but meant well. Besides, she found she wasn't so upset by it all as she had been as an adolescent.  
Because now, though Mòrag may hide her face behind the visor of her hat, she no longer has to hide who she is. And most importantly, she knows who she is. Who is she you ask? She is Lady Mòrag Ladair, Flamebringer, Driver of Brighid and, now, Aegaeon, Jewels of the Empire of Mor Ardain.  
  
And at her core, she always was.

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought if anyone in XC2 was transgender it would be Mórag. She gets very upset when referred to as a man simply because of how she dresses.  
> I'm thinking of making this part of a series about all of the gang's childhoods but... no promises. I rarely upload, so don't get too excited. Anyway hope liked it!


End file.
